Not his usual spirited self, Meroh climbed free of Lake Hylia, water running of his nude form. His movements were cumbersome. Weighted and stoic. The Zora's dark eyes followed the surface of the lake to the tributary that led out to the Great Bay, and home. It had been a mistake, an honest mistake! Not a lapse in judgement, not willful maleficence, not even his typical carelessness! Yuku had been so beautiful, talented, and kind. No, he couldn't go back. Not with the words that had been given him. Every time he returned it was the same. She would not see him, others said. Be ashamed, they told him, and he was. Tired was the time scavenging for a living, the swamp offered no solace, only the savage river Zora and their fire. Polite company in Zora's domain shirked him now. A lost woods, to lose something or someone. It made sense. Gently rolling Kukuru in his palm, the hermit crab gave him a painful but affectionate pinch, drawing him out of his thoughts. "I know, I know, no sense in stagnating." The crab was returned to it's pouch, and he started into the trees. The way each looked like the last was unsettling, their canopies arched and twined. It wasn't long before the Zora wandered aimlessly over bough and root in the murky dimness.